


End & Start Again

by writingwithwings



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Pricefield, Post-Sacrifice Chloe Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6908278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingwithwings/pseuds/writingwithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Auntie Max…what was big sis like?”<br/>Just like that, Calliope Madsen asked me the question I had hoped for and dreaded since the day she was born.<br/>Post-Sacrifice Chloe Ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	End & Start Again

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, Life is Strange, how you haunt me. I thought I was done with this game back in October; feeling emotional and relieved yet somewhat unsatisfied by the two endings. But the fangame Love is Strange was released, and pulled me back in like an eternally spinning vortex. Three weeks later here I am, with a fic that doubles as my goodbye letter to the game.  
> Capturing the voice of adult Max was a unique challenge, because I wanted to keep her in-character without having it sound too juvenile. Not many references in here outside of the title, though a bit of Max and Calli’s interaction alludes to a particular sibling relationship in Catcher in the Rye.  
> Anyways, thank you for stopping by, and I hope you enjoy my way of providing closure to the ‘Bay over Bae’ Max. (For optimal effect, re-watch the "Sacrifice Chloe" ending before reading.)

About nine years and five months ago, my best friend was shot by Nathan Prescott in the bathroom of Blackwell Academy. That’s what I tell people when they asked about my relationship with Chloe, adjusting the time as necessary. They would give me their condolences, saying how they couldn’t possibly imagine what losing such a good friend was like.

I always felt bad for lying.

Every time I recited the details of that morning, my thoughts wandered to seconds before, during our kiss in the eye of the storm: my first real kiss, salt lining our lips from the sea spray and the tears. Soulmate is such a dated term, but it’s hard to describe how I felt about her in any other way. Her death was like losing a piece of my own soul. I could have saved her, but I couldn’t bear the thought of losing the people I had bonded with that week, either. I had come to care about far too many others to let the town be destroyed at my hand…but I would never forget the way my whole body shuddered at the sound of that shot.

No one knew about my powers, or my time in the dark room, or how many different ways I had watched Chloe die. In fact, no one at Blackwell ever heard about what really happened to me. The closest I came to spilling the truth was when I had lost my composure on a tea outing with Kate. Poor thing had had no idea Chloe was so important to me, and was confused by my outburst. But she was still a blessing in the way she gently took my hand in hers, paired my aimless rambles with sweet nothings, and held me tight as I sobbed.  
She’d spent the remainder of the day with me and offered to let me sleepover in her dorm room that night. She’d shared Matthew 11:28 with me. She’d cupped my cheeks and said, “I won’t let you fall, Max.” She was not aware of the other timelines, but there was an omnipotent quality to the words that made them more profound than she would ever know. Returning here years later to see her signing children’s books at the Arcadia Bay Public Library was a heartwarming sight.

Her video became obsolete; the shock of a school shooting took all impact out of it, and it was quickly taken down and forgotten. The Vortex Club followed the same fate, although that was because of Victoria’s absence. She apparently retired her title of Blackwell ’Queen Bee’ after Nathan’s arrest, deciding instead to throw her heart and soul into her work. Any time I saw her out of her dorm she was with her camera, Taylor and Courtney nowhere to be seen, her expression unwavering and focused as though the student body beyond her lens was not even there. But I knew from the faint Japanese I heard beyond her door that she entertained other private indulgences when locked away in her dorm, ‘working on her portfolio’. I would have make a joke about her becoming a reclusive otaku, but it felt too crass after she had offered me her wary acceptance. She didn’t go out of her way to be pleasant, but she didn’t go out of her way to be mean, either. No need to poke the puma.

Likewise, the Prescotts were never heard from again after the event. Plans for Pan Estates were quietly scrapped, and the entire family seemed to have packed up and left Arcadia Bay for good. Maybe to find another small town to terrorize. Or to atone for their sins. Probably not the latter, but wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Joyce had suffered the most out of everyone in the town, but she also kept her head the highest. I admired, and maybe even envied, her for it. She joked with me about the childhood mishaps she watched us get into and cried with me over Chloe’s baby pictures. She explained to me how she’d gone through grief before. How the second time wasn’t any less painful. How it’s a parent’s worst nightmare to outlive their child.  
And yet she never lost her hope. I was helping her set tables the afternoon she told me that she was expecting. She was uncharacteristically jittery; I watched her set a booth with two spoons and a knife as she told me how much she dreaded the coming morning sickness and wondered if she should request time off from work. I told her to do whatever felt best for her, and hoped she didn’t notice the uncertainty in my own voice.

Time proverbs are still kind of tongue-in-cheek for me, but the passage of months between Joyce’s pregnancy and labor really seemed to wait for no one. My memory of the diner only felt like days before that foggy morning at Arcadia Bay General Hospital, when Joyce held newborn Calliope Madsen in her arms. That day was also the second time I had ever seen David cry, although this time the tears were filled with happiness rather than anger for his stepdaughter’s death at the hands of Jefferson. During my hospital visit, I told Joyce how great it was to see her so at peace. I knew she still missed William and Chloe, and I knew she never wouldn’t. But she’d opened her heart to a new family, and all her enthusiasm for life had returned with it. I said something that felt apropos at the time, like ‘loss never means the end of your happiness’.

“Thank you, Max.” She had smiled, reached out, and took my hands in her own. Her eye contact was deliberate. “But don’t you forget to follow your own advice, okay?”

Those were the words that bubbled up to the surface of my mind once more, at age 27, as I leafed through a brochure on a flight back to Arcadia Bay. Last week, I had received an email from Blackwell inviting me to come as an alum guest speaker. I’d bet my entire portfolio that Victoria was their first choice, but that photography contract she had with a modeling agency in Manhattan meant they wouldn’t pull their claws out of her for even a weekend. My new job with a travel journal in Seattle was far more lenient. Just before leaving, they handed me the brochure regarding an international column they were doing, and encouraged me to apply. The criteria was ditching the states for a year and photographing the wildlife in Nara, Japan.  
I almost considered it. I was satisfied with my job, but sometimes, it did feel like my smiles were forced. Crossing state lines had never been enough to ease the odd discomfort that lingered with me since I graduated from Blackwell… but culture shock might.

Still, I held back and chastised myself for thinking that way. _Right. This isn’t Eat, Pray, Love, Max._ Running away from my problems couldn’t possibly be the answer. I did tuck the brochure into my jacket pocket after getting off the plane, though. For something to look at later.

Arcadia Bay hadn’t changed since I was last here, and nor had the Madsens. They were still in that old half-painted house; it was comforting to know some things never changed. Joyce had beamed and hugged me, fed me enough breakfast food to satiate a small army, and chattered away about Calli’s report card and her upcoming plans with David. Their anniversary was two days before my talk, and they were staying in the town for it, but it seemed like they wanted the day and night off—so I offered my services to babysitting duty.

“Auntie Max?”

The words snapped me out of my reminiscence, and brought me back to my present moment on the bench by the lighthouse.  
My ten year old charge stood by the cliffside. Her hair was frizzy from the sea breeze. It was the same coffee brown as David’s: not quite black, but far from my mousy burnet that I never bothered to change. Chloe only won the recessive hair lottery because both her parents were blonds, but she obviously preferred cobalt to gold. Blue was her color.

Calli tilted her head at me, hazel eyes narrowing just a bit. “You’re all spacey.”

“Sorry,” I apologized. “Just…have a lot on my mind.”

She returned to her precarious walk along the cliffside, arms out for balance. She stumbled on a patch of lose gravel before continuing on, undeterred.

“Careful,” I cautioned out of habit.

“Mm.” She gave a hum of acknowledgement, though she didn’t take any further care with her steps. I shook my head. Calling her out on it wouldn’t do much, anyway.

Calli had a lot of Chloe’s physical mannerisms, but they were vastly different people. I remember Chloe clearly at that age: fervent, boisterous, and afraid of absolutely nothing. Always testing the boundaries, and pushing me to break through my own. She was my ship captain, after all. The _real_ protagonist of our youth. I was just the trusty sidekick.

In contrast, Calli was a bit of an introspective mystery. She must have got it from David, who even admitted to me he was no good at teamwork. She had only one friend—Quinton, a scruffy, spitfire of a boy who’d moved all the way out here from Oklahoma and who was a lot more ‘Chloe’ than her own half-sister—and she didn’t seem to bother with the popular crowd.  
She wasn’t exactly like me, though, either. Calli was quiet, but not in a shy way; in a _coy_ way. She took her natural introversion and turned it into a game. It was as though she knew she was holding secrets from you, and she wanted you to try and pursue them, for the thrill of the chase. A trait sure to drive any potential boyfriends or girlfriends in her future absolutely insane.

“So Calli, what’s your favorite subject in school these days?” I decided to entertain it.

“Lunch.”

“Nice try. Academic subject.”

Calli met my gaze and held it for a moment, deciding if I was worthy of that information.

“Science is cool, I guess,” she relented, looking back toward the cliffside. “We went to the aquarium for our field trip last month. Our science teacher told us about the whales of Arcadia Bay. I wanted to learn more about them.”

A marine-biologist in the making, huh? This girl was going places. Pretty sure I had “dog walker” down as my future dream job at that age.

“Know what?” Calli suddenly spun on her heels to face me. “Quint taught me how to spit.”

“…spit?” I echoed dubiously. Calli nodded.

“Watch.” She took a step towards the cliff’s edge. She cleared her throat, swished her cheeks around, and sent a wad of saliva sailing towards the horizon.

Charming.

“Well done,” I said. She grinned like the cat that ate the canary.

“Mine goes way farther than his,” she boasted. “Sometimes we do it during recess. It really grosses out the other girls.” By the way she puffed out her tiny chest, she was proud of that fact.

“I bet.” I sat back against the bench, pulling my jacket closer as the breeze picked up.

“We got in trouble last week, though.” She kicked a few stray rocks off the cliffside. “Well, Quint did. He was the one who stole the otter pops from the cafeteria freezer. I only ate _two_.”

“Scandalous.”

She blew stray wisps of hair out of her face and crossed her arms. “He gave the rest to the kids who had their fruit snacks stolen during lunch the day before. Mrs. Goodwin still took away classroom points from us, though! It was hella dumb.”

I raised a eyebrow.

“What was that word, Calliope Madsen?”

Her eyes widened, and she clapped her hands over her mouth with a tiny ‘eep’. She gave me a look filled with worry and a hint of remorse, although the latter was probably bred from the former.

“Don’t tell dad,” she muttered through her cupped hands.

I gave her a knowing smile. 

“My lips are sealed.”

It was a clever plan, to give her some credit. Don’t perform the crime, but reap the profits. And Quint sounded like his heart was in the right place. Misfits helping misfits…reminiscent of my Blackwell days, minus the whole time powers thing.

“Anything in particular you want to do today?” I asked her as she came to join me on the bench. “We could…go down to the beach, if you want. Orrrr…play pirates?” She used to love that. I cleared my throat and gestured to the ocean. “Aye, thar be ships waitin’ for us in them waters!”

Calli stared at me, unimpressed. Ouch. Age turned her into a tough crowd. My impervious Gollum impression was a big hit when she was three.

“Hey, don’t give me that, you _love_ my voices!”

Her expression was enigmatic. She totally does. 

“But if you’re bored, I understand,” I went on. “We don’t have to stay here anymore, if you don’t want. We could go window-shopping, or get ice cream, or—“

Calli shook her head.

“Nah.” She tilted her head up to the sky, shoes dangling above the grass. Black high tops. They suited her. “I like it here. It’s pretty.”

The sight _was_ just as beautiful as I’d remembered: the sun would be setting soon, but for now the rays hit the ocean at a perfect angle, setting the entire surface alight. My fingers itched to pull out my camera, but I resisted. Calli deserved my full attention.

She did not seem to return the sentiment, though, as I glanced down and saw her tapping at her phone screen.

I gently elbowed her. “Really enjoying that scenery, huh?”

“Got a text from dad,” she replied, wrinkling her nose. “He wants to know what time I’ll be coming back. He always texts me when I’m out.”

Of course; this was David we were talking about.

“He’s just making sure you’re safe,” I offered. Calli sighed and pocketed the device without a word.

“You know he only does it because he cares, right?” I continued.

“You knew dad,” she suddenly said. It was a statement rather than a question, but I nodded.

“Yeah. David was our school security guard.”

“But you _knew_ him. Really well.” She turned to me, eying me carefully.

“I did.” No use hiding from this kid. “You know, since…Chloe and I were best friends at the time.”

Calli nodded. The air between us changed at the mention of the name. I cleared my throat to switch the topic. Favorite TV shows was safe conversation fodder.

But she beat me to breaking the silence.

“Auntie Max…what was big sis like?”

Just like that, Calliope Madsen asked me the question I had hoped for and dreaded since the day she was born. 

I knew it would come up at some point, and I had so much to say. But a part of me was hoping she would be older. _I_ would be older. It was nine years ago…but the memory was still far too fresh.

Then again, if this was me almost a decade ago, I’d have rewound and changed the subject quicker. But Calli looked at me, her hazel stare hard and unwavering, and I knew it was time.

I gave my lap a pat. “Come here.”

Calli climbed right over, and I wrapped my arms around her. I was glad she didn’t protest. At least she wasn’t too old for cuddles.

“Well…for starters, I met her a few years before your age. We really couldn’t have been any more different. I was incredibly shy back then, but she…she was so _unapologetic_ of the space she took up. I found it inspiring.” Calli said nothing. I took that as a cue to continue. “She was the first one to talk to me. I don’t know what she saw in me, but we clicked in an instant. I guess I got swept up in her vigor from there. Her energy was completely infectious.”

“Quint’s that way,” Calli told me. 

“Sure sounds like it. We quiet ones love our extroverts, huh?”

“Mm.” Calli leaned back into me as I spoke again:

“As for the kind of stuff we did…I don’t even know where to begin. I spent a lot of time over at her place, though. Sleepovers were the best, because your mother is the ultimate breakfast-making champ. And for the times we weren’t at her house…”

I began to ramble. I told her a few stories about our afternoons playing pirates out on this very cliffside, and our day trip to Portland, and of all the trouble we got into—well, that Chloe got us into. A smile crept back onto my face the longer I talked, and only fell when I got to William’s death. I kept the details to the minimum about the car crash, and ended by explaining how I left for Seattle shortly after.

“That was her dad,” Calli muttered. “Did she…like my dad?” 

“They got off on a rough start,” I admitted. “He had a lot to learn about parenthood back then, and he made a lot of mistakes. But despite that, I know he cared about her.”

Calli picked idly at the hem of her shorts. Her voice lowered to a mumble. “Would she have liked me?”

The uncertainty in her voice made my chest ache. I gave her a gentle squeeze.

“Oh, Calli, I _know_ she would have. Even if it took her time to adjust. I think she might have been a bit jealous for a while…but I know my Chloe. Once her protective big sis instincts kicked in, she wouldn’t have let anyone lay so much as a finger on you if you weren’t ok with it. She would have loved you so much.”

Calli titled her head back to look at me. Her eyes were glassy.

“Really?”

I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Absolutely.”

She settled further into my lap, apparently lost in thought. Then, another question followed.

“Why did she die?”

My heart felt like ice. I had a simple way to explain this. It was what I told everyone else. I could rehearse the scene in the bathroom once more, and that would be all.

And that’s what I decided to do: all I wanted was a picture. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. When I recognized who it was that had been shot, it brought back childhood memories. That was it.

Calli was awfully quiet afterwards. 

“You ok?” I whispered, pulling her closer to me and pressing my cheek to her temple. I hoped hearing that hadn’t upset her too much. Crying would be the normal reaction.

Suddenly, Calli wiggled from my grip and twisted around. Her eyes met mine. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t what I saw in her gaze that moment. Too soft for anger, but too intense for sadness… _some kind of confusion, maybe?_

Then, her eyes narrowed.

Suspicion.

“How did you know dad?”

“David?” I blurted out. “I told you. He was the security guard at Blackwell…”

“No,” she interrupted me, “you said that you knew him well, because you and Chloe were best friends. But you went to Seattle after her dad died…and didn’t come back until you came to Blackwell. You weren’t best friends then. So how did you know dad?”

Oh.

_...Shit._

My breath got stuck in my throat. There was an excuse somewhere, but it wasn’t coming to me in that moment. I stumbled over a few incredibly fake-sounding responses in my head. Calli watched me patiently, but her suspicion never once wavered. She wordlessly demanded an answer.

I had a crazy thought.

“Um…Calli,” I started. “Do you like fairy tales? Or are you too old for that?”

Framing my experience as a story would at least make it easier than explaining the time powers situation right off the bat.

There was still a chance she wouldn’t believe me. _Did she even believe in Santa anymore?_ But she was already onto me, and the worst she could do was call me a liar.

There was also the chance she wouldn’t be into the idea of story time. She WAS ten.

“Fairy tales aren’t for kids,” she informed me indignantly. “The Cinderella movie isn’t even accurate. In the book, the evil step-sisters had their eyes pecked out by crows.”

Guess that answers that.

Calli had me in a corner now. She was about to hear more than any family member, friend, or therapist had ever heard about that autumn week at Blackwell.

I took a deep breath.

“So…I’m going to tell you a fairy tale that actually happened. T-to me. Sometimes, I think the whole thing might have been a dream. And maybe it was, but it will answer your question. Ok?”

Now she was intrigued. She nodded, settling back into my embrace, and waited for me to begin.

“I guess, to start…let’s say that there’s a legend. According to this legend, sometimes people are given a special power over the fabric of time. Kind of like _Back to the Future_ , but without the car. Did you ever see that movie?”

Calli shook her head. Guess that’s not surprising. It was technically before my time, too…but I had Warren’s flash drive to thank for my retro film knowledge.

“A-anyways. The people who receive this power get it randomly. Not for any particular reason or greater purpose. I don’t think it was even given to them, as much as they were _hit_ with it. Like the universe stumbled and accidentally dropped one of its divine powers on the head of a hapless, insignificant subject. And it would try everything it could to fix that mistake.” 

I cleared my throat. 

“The morning in the bathroom, when I saw your sister get shot…that power fell onto me.”

Calli shifted in my arms. She was studying her shoes with intense scrutiny. Focusing.

I retold my memory of the shooting, this time adding how I stopped Nathan with my time power. How I reunited with Chloe afterwards. How we messed around with my powers in the junkyard…and realized just how dangerous they could be, too.

I only intended to tell her the highlights, but once I started into my story, I couldn’t stop. I told her about trivial decisions like breakfast choices and skateboard tricks. I told her about saving Kate. I told her about Rachel Amber’s disappearance. I told her about swimming with Chloe at night and waking up beside her, feeling at home for the first time since I had returned here. I told her about the consequences of messing with pictures and other timelines. I told her that Rachel was beyond saving. I told her about how threatening the person I once admired had become.

I kept the gory details to a minimum, of course, but the words were otherwise out of my control. The story of my power had been my burden for this long. It was riveting to tell it out loud, into the afternoon air of the bay I had saved, and to the sharp little person held tight in my arms. 

I told her about my dream. Being confronted by the Max of another timeline that I had screwed over. Standing there in the eye of the storm, butterfly picture in hand, as Chloe told me to decide between her one life and the lives of everyone in the bay. Focusing on the picture through eyes blurred with tears. The morning in the bathroom again; this time, the way I always tell it.

And then I was done. My words had run completely dry.

I waited for Calli’s response.

_Did she even have a response? Was she even still listening at this point?_

Then, she moved slightly. She pulled away, and turned to look at me.

“Are you ok, Auntie Max?”

I didn’t understand why she would be asking that, until I freed my hand and felt moisture on my cheek.

“F-fine,” I managed, trying—and failing—to force a smile.

Calli continued to stare.

Of course she wouldn’t buy that. Neither would Chloe.

“You miss her a lot.” Her eyes were incredibly soft for someone so young. “She was one of the most important people to you.”

I wanted to say yes, of course I miss my dearest friend. But Calli knew better. Once again, she had caught me in a lie.

Somehow, she knew this fairy tale was also a love story.

I managed a pathetic sound of confirmation. This wasn’t even the first time I’d cried in front of her. Back when I first babysat her, my eyes randomly filled with tears while she was playing with Joyce’s phone. It hadn’t been my best day; I was both hungry and cramping, and being in Chloe’s old room didn’t help matters. Three year old Calli hadn’t known what to do, and continued playing instead. I anticipated a similar reaction now.

Except this time, I felt her wriggle about in my hold until she was fully facing me. Small arms wrapped themselves around my waist, and her hands tightly gripped the fabric of my jacket.

“This is from big sis,” she murmured into my shirt, giving the tiniest squeeze. “She wants me to give it to you.”

Any remaining composure I had shattered like window glass in a tornado.

The late afternoon air around us was made of gold. It surrounded us in a warm, balmy glow, a lot like the day of Chloe’s funeral. But I hadn’t been crying that day. Not like this. 

My entire body was shaking. I think Calli’s was, too, but I could hardly tell. I had not bawled this hard in a long time. I thought I’d shed the last my grief years ago…but this was the final burst of emotion that had been waiting all these years to show itself. Maybe my willingness to cry so openly was because the person I was with knew every detail of what had happened to me. This ten year old girl, hugging me with impressive force for someone so small, and shedding her own quiet tears for a person she had never even met.

The sunlight was at its peak above the sea when I finally settled down. Calli had quieted before me, but she didn’t let go for a moment. It was only when I gave a long, shuddery sigh that she moved.

“Auntie Max?” She pulled away slightly to look up at me.

“Y-yes, Cal?”

“I think you made the wrong decision.”

My heart plummeted. My breathing hitched.

But Calli continued before I could comment, her lips forming into a wobbly smile.

“I would have picked the bacon omelette.”

Hoarse, relieved laughter rumbled through my chest and out my raw throat. She returned it as she wiped her sniffling nose on her sleeve.

“Uh… s-sorry about all that,” I told her once we regained our composure. I rubbed away stray tears with my palm. “This isn’t exactly how I intended for us to spend time together today.”

“S’okay,” Calli replied on beat. “I wanted to know. I’m glad you told me.”

No more questions or comments came from her after that. Nothing to indicate that Calli believed me, or didn’t. But I don’t think that really mattered.

We were both quiet for a long while. I leaned against the bench and shut my eyes. I hadn’t felt this content in a very, very long time.

I almost drifted off, when I felt Calli wiggle in my grip.

“I’m bored,” she reported bluntly. “We should leave.”

“Where to?” I asked, snapping my eyes back open. “The town? Or back to your place?”

“Back home,” she decided after a moment. “I promised dad I’d be back in an hour. I…don’t want to worry him.”

“Oh. Of course.” I loosened my grip, and she slipped off my lap to the ground. She was still facing me, though.

“Where are you gonna go, Auntie Max?”

“Hm? Back home with you…”

She shook her head quickly.

“Nooo, I mean when you leave Arcadia Bay next week.”

Oh.

“I’m not sure. Back to Seattle, probably.”

“You should go somewhere new,” she suggested.

“Should I?” I had a flawless one-liner in mind. “Maybe you could come with me. We could go to _Calli_ -fornia!”

 _Wowser._ The look she gave me was filled with such amazing judgement that I wished I had my camera out. I definitely wouldn’t be trying the Krak-can joke on this one.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” I crossed one leg over the other. “Where do you suggest?”

Calli shrugged. “I ‘unno. Japan? I saw a brochure of it in your jacket pocket.”

So that’s what she was getting at. 

“Yeah, that’s for work,” I explained. “It’s a year-long job doing nature photography in Nara. But…I’m not sure I want to go.”

“Why not?” She titled her head.

“Because it’s running away.” From what exactly, I wasn’t even certain. But it seemed like a cowardly thing to do, regardless.

Calli shook her head.

“I don’t think so.” She refused to continue until I made eye contact with her. “I think running away is going back to Seattle.”

“What? How?”

She shrugged, but the intensity of her gaze didn’t waver. “Seems like running away from living your life.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way. But Calli’s eyes were full of conviction.

And she was completely right.

I remembered once more what Joyce told me the day Calli was born, and how I hadn’t exactly listened to her. I only returned to Seattle after graduating because I could live near my parents, and it was close enough to Arcadia Bay. Close enough to where Chloe used to be.

Chloe’s final request was that I never forget her; and there was a part of me that was afraid to move on and away from everything. I desperately wanted to keep a foothold here, something, anything, to remind me of what I experienced that year. And to remind me of her.

But as I looked at Calli, knowing my entire story was safe in her mind…I realized that was something I already had.

I reached into my pocket and touched the brochure. I thought about packing.

“Send me pictures!” Calli requested, breaking my reminiscence once more.

“Huh?”

“Of when you go to Japan!” Unsurprisingly, she wasn’t giving me a choice.

“I will,” I told her after a moment. “I promise.”

“And then you’ll come visit me after and tell me all about it.”

Now that was something I could agree on.

“Definitely!”

Calli nodded in satisfaction, and went up to the cliffside. She gave a long, exaggerated stretch before the glimmering water before her. The sun hit her hair just so, giving it a reddish sheen.

This time, I did take out my trusty Polaroid, and snapped a test shot of the ocean. The flash started her into turning around.

“Not that old thing again,” Calli grumbled.

“But of course!” I replied, giving my voice some heightened pomp. “I am going on a photography trip across the Pacific, my dearest Calliope. I simply must get some practice in!”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” There was no judgmental stare about my voice acting this time. _Progress!_ Or maybe regress, considering it was something she liked as a kid. Either way, story time had apparently doubled as the ultimate bonding experience. 

I took a few more snapshots of the water as she paced around the cliff’s edge. This was my last time taking photos at Arcadia Bay for a while, so I wanted to make them count.

But I had one final picture in mind.

“Hey, Calli!” I called to her. She stopped right next to the lighthouse, and turned to look at me questioningly.

I held up my camera.

“Smile!”

She paused a moment, blinking, then gave me a wide grin. But not before looking just above the lens to my eyes.

“You too, Auntie Max!”

So I did.

It was effortless.


End file.
